Crimson Midnight
by Wolkov
Summary: Blood, death, and pleasure - they were what drove the basic instincts of Vampires. Yet through the centuries, these attributes withered away inside Godric, and he was ready to meet the sun. That's what he decreed - until a very human Mila challenges his rules and decisions. Both can't deny the carnal sensations brewing within them - and both do nothing to stop them. (More sum. ins)


**Summary:** Blood, death, and pleasure - they were what drove the basic instincts of Vampires. Yet through the centuries, these attributes withered away inside Godric, and he was ready to meet the sun. That's what he decreed - until a very human Mila challenges his rules and decisions. Both can't deny the carnal sensations brewing within them - and both do nothing to stop them. But Mila dreadfully realizes she's got just a few days to change his mind - yet more so his heart - but fears... is she going to be too late?

 **AN:** _I did this thing where I watched True Blood and Godric happened. And then this short story followed suit. I couldn't resist myself; my brain was already shifting and building the story as the show progressed. He deserves to be remembered, to be mentioned, like he always is. *sighs* (Bill, I still did not forgive you for calling him weak. So not cool. And Lilith, I refuse to believe you killed his spirit form because, well, he's in spirit form. You can't kill spirits, silly.)_

 _Furthermore, when I say this is going to be a short story, it really will be. Perhaps a few chapters, so read at your own peril but read it, because Godric. I'm completely unapologetic for starting this fanfic of True Blood; it has my bloody heart._

 _I don't own True Blood, not the books, the show, the characters, the plots. Nothing. Just this teenie story. Shall we, then?_

Crimson Midnight

Chapter One

In hasty movements, sweaty palms numerously skidded against each other, causing the initiator to nervously chew her lower lip. She paced around the kitchen space, some kind of tribal music playing in the background.

 _It's going to be okay_ , she reassured herself. Given the speed of the vampires, she knew it'd also end fast. Hopefully. _I mean_ , she thought with a jittery mental shrug of her shoulders, how long would it typically take for this unknown creature of blood and death to sink their fangs in her throat, sip a few mouthfuls, and retract? Surely not more than a few heartbeats.

Oh, good gracious. What if it went wrong? What if the golden-haired vampire's companion concluded to hell with her life and drained her? No one would stop him or her. No one would care; hell, they might even join in on the party.

She stilled the rubbing of her hands. She had to leave, AB negative or not. Money or not. The sudden image of her mother's deathly-stricken face flashed through her mind, and a whimper escaped her throat.

No, no, she decided. Can't leave. _Mommy comes first_. Always. Swallowing down the rising tears down her throat, she continued her pacing.

She was currently in the kitchen of this mansion of a house, the interior design ready to make millionaires weep, but more specifically her, and she wasn't even the m to illionaire.

The taste was masculine—nonetheless lavish—no sign of feminine touch. The space before her possessed white cabinets and cupboards, the kitchen counter, stationed in the centre, was full Dalbergia wood, and around it were bar stools made from the same wood with white leather for heads. The flooring was grey-and-golden marbled. The walls, too, were marble-white.

But as for the other walls, they varied from room to room. The house had grey walls, black walls, stony walls, and had crystalline lamps of every size hanging from the centre of certain areas. The living room she bypassed on her entry had lavish sitting sofas, a stony fireplace that, instead of being short it actually arched all the way to the ceiling, its wild fire crackling its angry flames; plush carpets ranging from the darkest grey to the lightest, dining tables made of dark wood, and curtains flowing down from windows as tall and wide as the walls themselves, further complimented the house's rather dark, artistic and singular design.

But what liquefied her insides the most, was the aroma drifting in the house. It had the alluring scents of sandalwood moulding with the scent of rain-touched dark wood, that had the atmosphere in the rooms pulsing to some type of call from nature. It was calming, almost spiritual.

It also was not fair.

They couldn't be impeccably beautiful, unmatchable in strength, and also smell wonderful. Perhaps the house was perfumed, but it didn't matter. Their strength alone was a force to reckon with, if one even had the guts initiate such a war cry. Life took as much as it gave.

Oh, she drily thought. Totally forgot about the sun part. The glory and warmth of the burning star was not theirs to witness, silver and wooden sticks were their sworn enemies, and they only survived off of synthetic blood and human blood—as far as she knew. Although the latter bordered closely to the human race's defence, Mila knew the tongue-gasmic pleasures worldly food could offer, and felt sort of sad that they weren't physically able to experience them. A pity. It would've saved a lot of human lives.

Vampires mingled about her in the same kitchen space, some talking and laughing, some drinking Tru Blood and even sharing them, and some eyeing the real deal—her—with dark intent in their predatory orbs. They couldn't touch her; the blond vampire strictly ordered so, and whosoever did would pay with their fangs, their hands, each limb and then finally head. _His friend certainly seems to be held in high regard._ They complied with an angry hiss, but they complied.

It should've somewhat eased her but it didn't. She was scared. She wanted to go home, back to the promised safety of her walls.

Alas, she couldn't. Not without doing what she first came here to do—offer her AB negative blood to the vampire's companion and receive payment in return. It was immoral, yes. Wrong? Definitely. But she was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures. She'd tried everything, but nothing seemed good enough or fast enough. So, through some connections and names, she put herself up on the market, and not a day later, she received a call.

It was a miracle, she'd concluded. Her type was extremely rare, but it was a rarity the blond vampire's friend seemed to favour. She'd offered it for a price. A big one. But to the vampire the sum was a matter of the shrug of the shoulders. His only concern was how fast she could get here, and within the hour, she was escorted. Perhaps he, too, was desperate.

And now she waited, her nerves panicky and on the brink of sending her full-on nuts. _It's okay_ , she thought again. _I won't be harmed. I'll be fine. Just..._ A vampire bared his sharp fangs at her, and then licked his lips, as though already tasting her _... Fine_. She gulped.

Suddenly a blond head came into her sight, and she exhaled in utter relief. She wasn't sure why though, she was going to be fed upon, a notion she was fearing a moment ago. The extremely and wonderfully tall vampire approached her, his facial features dark and menacing—just like his strides—but also somewhat angelic. Perhaps it was because he possessed golden locks that were slicked back, and blue eyes. He also had pouty lips that had a seductive curve to them, adding more to that angelic façade. But there was nothing angelic about them; they were natural "made" killers.

And she was offering herself to one.

It must be done, for her mother. And it'll be done. She was very close to achieving her goals. So what if she let a vampire drink from her? So what if she carried bite marks? If it meant her mother survived because she carried those fang marks, she'd even bear them with pride.

Hope grew in her chest, splaying its fluttery wings apart, ready to leap skywards. Her mother would be saved.

 _AB negative coming right up!_

The male came to a stop before her, his head tipped down to ground her in her place against the kitchen counter. Slightly caving, she stared up at him. He had a blank expression, almost indifferent, and it uneased her rather than not. It didn't matter, soon he'll utter words that'd lead to her success.

"You are not needed. You may leave."

For a moment, she stared up at him in stupor. Then, the reality of his words sunk in, and her spine snapped straight. She was rejected. But... But... Vampire... Blood... Need... How was this even...

"But I have AB negative blood, a type you said your friend needed. What changed?"

He stared at her for a moment, expression still blank, then turned on his heel to leave, clearly not deeming her worthy of his answer. Frenzied, she, too, bolted into action.

"Wait," she released, grabbing onto his arm.

A sudden ferocious snarl erupted, and he was in her face the next moment, deadly fangs bared. Mila swallowed her scream and jumped back in absolute fright. "I-I'm sorry," she croaked out, leaning against the counter.

"Touch me again, and I'll drain you myself." With that, he strode off in that same calm yet war-promising fashion. It was only after her lungs started to burn she realized she wasn't breathing. Loudly inhaling, she felt her wildly fluttering heart throb in her chest. She flattened her hand against it, willing it calm down. It didn't.

Releasing the kept breath, she straightened, gently brushing her palms over her stomach. It was starting to churn with nausea. She needed fresh air, especially after such a horrid revelation, never mind the display of the vampire's temper. She had to find another way to get the money. _It was too good to be true from the start._

As she lifted her face, it was then she realized every vampire eye in the kitchen was on her. Oh, blimey. There were two entrances to the kitchen; she chose the one closest to her. Slowly, she began to inch towards it.

"I call dibs," one female vampire said.

"I saw her first," another voiced.

"Well, I _smelled_ her first," a third butt in.

"You guys flatter me," Mila said with a nervous laugh. "But I think I'll pass."

The first female vampire mock-pouted at her. "Aww," she pityingly shook her head, "She thinks it's her choice."

Her companions laughed at her words, and more so at Mila's frightened expression. No, she couldn't be weak here. Not now. She had to find a way to escape unscathed from this place. Her mother needed her alive, and stay alive she would. Gaining needed courage from that, she tilted her chin up.

"Of course it is," she retorted. "It has been my choice since 1968." The year Native Americans emerged victorious from the battle they've been warring for ages, and claimed the rights as every other American citizen. Her mother was a Native American but her father was Russian, hence her name. He'd met her when he'd come for a business trip, and one look at her tanned skin, ebony hair and walnut-coloured eyes, he'd fallen head-over-heels for her. He'd settled in America for good, and after a few years, she was born. In her own native land. So, yes, it practically made her a Native American. "Now if you'll excuse me, I still desire to live and will get busy doing so."

She was about to make her grand exit when the female vampire appeared in front of her, and Mila gasped, taking a step back.

"Sweet," she traced her cheek with her index finger, "little," her lips, "girl," her throat. She stopped there. "Do you really think it's wise to give a vampire hundreds of years older than you a lecture in history? Tsk, tsk."

She brushed her finger away from her throat. "Only when you're in dire need of it."

A melodious laugh parted blood-red lips. "Funny human. Silly human." Her posture straightened, her fangs graciously revealing themselves. "You're going to die, human."

"Let's play a game!" Mila abruptly clapped her hands together when she spotted those fangs. _Oh, crap, crap, crappidy-crap!_

The vampire arched a brow. "It better consist of me chasing you and you running for your life."

"It rather much goes like this; I run and you wait until I reach my home and don't invite you in. Far better than yours, I know. You're unwelcome."

She hissed as her peers chuckled. "Sarcasm will do you no good, weakling. How about this? I give you a three seconds head start, and then I'll start ripping your body apart piece by unworthy piece until there's nothing left of you?"

Mila swallowed hard, then wet her lips. "I... liked my option better."

The vampire merely cocked her head to the side. "One."

Mila frowned, blinking. She then looked at the other vampires in the room.

"You better start running, girl," one of them said with a smirk. "She's not jesting."

"And you better run fast," another provided. "Because we'll all be coming for you."

Whipping her attention back at the vampire before her, she searched her face for proof, and felt her heart skip two beats. They were joking, right? They wouldn't do such a thing, right? But what did she know? This was the first time she was in the company of vampires.

Her heart skipped another beat.

"Two."

Reality slapped her hard in the face. No joke. They were going to kill her. She had to run. Now.

Run! Run, Ivanovna!

Commanding her legs into motion, she sprinted from the room and literally flew into the living room. Vampires. Vampires everywhere. Their savage eyes landed on her, but she didn't stop; she run fast.

"Three," she heard the distant voice of the female say. And then nothing. That millisecond of quietness did something to her insides—it caused her belly to curl in on itself and tightly clench.

She also burst into tears.

In sheer trepidation and alarm, she sped straight towards the room adjacent to the living room, stationed right behind the towering wall of the stony fireplace, tears still blurring her vision.

Bursting into the new space, she was suddenly greeted by two figures. One standing and the other sitting.

Gasping, she came to an abrupt, jerky halt, the force inserted managing to trip her over her own feet and causing her to crash down onto the white, glossy marbled floor. Thwack!

Releasing a pained groan, she, for a moment, saw stars. Don't want to die, don't want to die, don't want to die! Also, "Ow, ow, ow."

With needed force, she lifted herself to her knees, and threw her wild caramel curls over her head. The big curls bounced before cascading down her back until her waist. She deeply inhaled, ushering in air to her deflated lungs.

Then she saw it.

Him. Sitting on a wide white chair with a beautiful female vampire standing to his side. For a moment, she couldn't speak, and didn't know whether it was from breathlessness or just sheer awe. Maybe both.

Ocean-blue eyes peered at her, a singular calmness to them, causing her heart to release a quick flutter. This time the reason for it evaded her.

The... male possessed God-favouring features; dark, slashing eyebrows crowned his eyelids, equally as dark but longer lashes framed his brooding silvery-blues, and skin alike crushed diamonds with a shade of pink dusting over his cheeks, the same pink coating his full lips, presented her an entity of only a rare kind. He had short-cropped dark brown hair, wore a light grey cashmere sweater, grey linen pants, and... her eyes narrowed as she examined him, had a tattoo on his chest; the deep V of his shirt revealed a part of it, and she suddenly got the urgency to have a peek on all of it.

He sat with his hands clasped on his lower belly, and had his ankles crossed.

A lone tear skidded down her cheek, snapping her out of her reverie, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. At that small act, she noticed, he regarded her with mild curiosity swirling in his blues. She did not mistake it for concern; there was a certain length of apathy to his demeanour.

She cleared her throat, rising to her feet. Tribal music with a mix of Indian tunes continued to play in the background. "Well, that was quite an entrance," she muttered to herself. The vampires outside that stilled their conversation to toss a glance at her, now moved on, dismissing her fall and going back to their chatter.

"Do you need anything?" His female companion arched a brow in her direction. She was draped all in black and sported killer heels. Her dark hair was loose, and she had a tanned complexion.

Mila once again snapped back to reality. Her chase. Her soon-to-come death. Her amber eyes widened.

"No, I do not want anything. I'm sorry to have barged in like this." Offering an apologetic smile, she twirled in place, studying the new area within seconds. She couldn't go out from the same way she entered. The fireplace was to her side, and it also seemed to play as a wall for this room, because she could see the living room from behind the wild flames burning in the hearth.

She was inside an office-space, she realized. A desk, chair, and a white laptop atop the desk stood to her other side. There was another exit right in front of her, and she bolted towards it. Before she exited, she stopped, turned, and gazed back at the two ethereal creatures.

"Do me a favour and tell whoever asks about a human girl with accursed curls that she went the other way. Thanks." Without realizing, she pinkie-waved at them.

The male vampire sitting gently blinked in her direction, his eyes neutral yet heavy to the feel. The contradiction caused the small hairs on her nape to prickle. Mila. Go! Right.

The moment she exited, she found herself slowly retracing back her steps. Oh-Oh. The vampires from the kitchen had her surrounded, the female vampire right in front of her. And, okay, her lungs were not working. Breathing suddenly became a too hard a task to see through.

"Hello, human," the female vampire uttered while tossing her a dark grin. One step, two, Mila inched backwards, not stopping. "It seems you weren't fast enough in our little chase. Pout, pout. So sad." She also smiled and waved to the figures behind her.

"Do you want to play another game?" Mila suggested with hope.

The female followed her steps, backing her up. "Do I get to drink your blood in it? If not, then no."

Suddenly irked, Mila stopped in her tracks, and did not realize she was stationed just a few feet shy from the vampire sitting on his chair. "What's up with you and my blood? I don't even know you. Did I say anything to offend you? I don't think s—huh, never mind. I did give you a brutal fact about history, but then again, you clearly needed it, so that doesn't count. Other than that, please get the stick that seems to be so far up your behind out of your behind and leave me be. Mind that I said please."

With an unexpected snarl, she launched at her, and Mila hastily scurried back, releasing a short scream in the process. Something hard slammed against the back of her knees, and she toppled down, losing her breath.

A hard surface but softer than the marbled-floor pressed against her thighs, and an equally as sturdy object pressed into her back. Dazed, confused, even, she tossed a look back. What the hell was—

Her eyes enlarged, and she loudly gasped, quickly leaping to her feet—only slamming back down when her left foot accidently knocked against her right ankle. For the second time, she released a mortified gasp. She'd fallen over the vampire sitting on the chair. The male, at the impact, merely issued a light grunt from the back of his throat. Her cheeks flushed a bright red.

A hand brutally snapped at her wrist, the source releasing a, "How dare you touch—!"

"Isabel," a charmingly accented voice rang out from behind her, stopping all commotion in the room. Mila winced when his companion released her iron-grip on her hand, and rubbed it to soothe the throbbing ache. She was just about to hurry off of the male vampire when cold hands clasped her shoulders, immobilizing her. At the moment of contact, sizzles erupted all over her body, surprising her.

Wait, was he holding her down for Kitchen Vampire?

"I'm so sorry, please let me go. I didn't mean to end up in your lap. Really. It was an honest accident—"

"Sheriff," Kitchen Vampire cut her off. Wait, Sheriff? "The human, we were just playing with her. It's always fang-tingling when they get all scared and their blood starts to rush through their veins. I just wanted to warm her up for the big feed, that's all."

Mila worked her jaw. She had come here striking a bargain with that blond vampire, a bargain ensuring her mother's survival. She didn't come here because she wanted to! She had no other choice. She refused to be some random vampire's blood bag.

"Maybe you should take a look at my T-shirt," Mila winked, "I wore it just for you." Her V-necked white shirt had the words If You Want My Blood, You Can Go Suck It! printed on them in bold black letters. She'd donned it just for the fun of it, now, it caused Kitchen Vampire to hiss at her, fangs bared and ready to rip through skin.

"Retract your fangs," the same soft yet commanding voice rang out. Although no heaty breath fanned against her neck, a cold one did, and goose bumps erupted all over her body. Kitchen Vampire complied with a sudden obedient look on her face, even a little bit of shame and fear.

"And you your claws, human," his voice resonated anew, this time directed at her. In disbelief, she tilted her face side-ways, her mouth hung agape.

"My nest will not be your feeding ground."

The vampires outside the room all paused, directing their attention to them. They were going to take a step towards them but one single raise of the female vampire's palm, and they all retreated. For a few seconds they watched, but then went back to their previous activities, deeming the occasion not one of serious matter.

"Yes, Sheriff," Kitchen Vampire and her peers said in unison, eyes downcast in obedience. The sight bombarded Mila. He was so... young. Well, appeared far youthful than the rest of them. And they drank up his words far willingly than they did human blood. And she was currently sitting in the lap of such an authoritative being?

At that thought, she tried to jump up. He didn't let her. Horrified, she attempted again, but the hands clasping her shoulders didn't budge. His hold on her was not even strong, it was easy, but that didn't in the least deter it from being demanding. It silently requested she obey or lose her life. She silently chose to obey.

"Sheriff, I saw her first—she is mine," Kitchen Vampire stated. Mila's attention snapped at her, her eyes gaping wide. "If you gift her back to me, I promise to cause her harm naught—"

"I'm not yours!" Mila cut her off. "Hello, I never was. You're also not my type; even if you were, ugh, what a drag that would be. I mean, have you talked with yourself? Death, death, blood, blah, blah. And don't even for a second think that I'd let you fang-rape me without me putting up a fight."

The female vampire to their side released an amused snort, Kitchen Vampire just narrowed her eyes at her. "You won't feel a thing, sugar pie."

Mila sheepishly shrugged. "I don't know about you, but that sounds like something a fang-rapist would say."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop pursuing to fang-rape me, then."

A hiss.

"Enough." The male vampire's tone had a steely edge to it this time. She pursed her lips. "The human is unwilling; you will not touch her. Those are the rules, or have you forgotten? They will be respected, and in my domain, more so. That is my verdict."

His domain? This was his house? She also recalled him saying his nest. Goodness, she really had to get off his lap.

A beat of silence. Then, "Yes, Sheriff."

Nothing was said, but the vampires accepted that as their cue to take their leave. And they did, but not before Kitchen Vampire tossed her a sharp glare. Mila merely shrugged, opening her palms in a 'What can I do? Rules are rules' manner.

"Now," the male vampire started from behind her, and all amusement drained from her.

"Now," she echoed softly. He was going to deal with her. End her, most probably. She got the idea that no one insulted his people and got away with it.

"I'm sorry," she hoarsely rushed out before he could do or say anything. Her eyes focused on the part of the living room that was showing, not ready to confront him. Music played in the background as vampires conversed and laughed with each other. For a moment, they appeared like humans, doing mundane things. There was no blood—just Tru blood—bodies did not pile up each other on the floor, and no one was screeching in pain. Only hers would echo. Her lower lip wobbled at the thought.

She gently shifted in his lap, her eyes settling on his chiselled features. The proximity of their faces for a moment caught her off-guard. Blinking, she wet her lips. "Will it... hurt?"

The muscles below his eyes, for the briefest second, twitched at the fear in her voice. His lips still carried the hinting tug of an approaching smile that never really seemed to curve his pink petals fully. But more than that, his eyes bespoke about a gentleness she'd never encountered in any of the vampires here, and Mila searched them for even a subtle show of falsehood.

They did not lie.

His lush lips parted to speak, and her eyes immediately fell on them. She shamelessly studied their texture without even realizing what she was doing. They looked so... soft. So... "Pretty," she murmured, entranced.

Then the reality of her words registered, and her eyes widened, blood rushing to her cheeks. Her eyes snapped up at his, the heat in her cheeks further spreading down to her neck. Oh, God. She did not just say that. She _did not_ just say that. Her mouth opened to correct herself but no sound emerged.

At her actions, his lashes lowered, casting shadows on his cheeks due to the orange-red hue of the fire, then lifted. He, unaffected, spared her the embarrassment by saying, "You are safe and are free to go, human. They will not harm you."

For half a minute, all she did was stare at him, eyes unblinking. Then, "I am?" Miracle of miracles!

His female companion sighed, and Mila guessed she also rolled her eyes. "He also means you can now get off of him."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Mila rushed out, promptly climbing to her feet. The white diamond-shaped stones on her bracelet accidently got caught in the soft material of his sleeve, uncourteously steering her right back to him. "Oh!" she released, instinctively flattening her palm against his firm chest, stopping herself from falling back in to him. He blinked up at her face with a benign reaction. "Why does this keep on happening to me," she ground out under her breath. "I swear I'm not doing this on purpose."

Then, realizing where her hand lay, she snatched it away. "I-I... let me," she said instead, kneeling beside him on the floor and borrowing his arm for a moment. He allowed her. Brows furrowed in concentration, she began to unhook the edgy stones from his sleeve. She tossed him a 'just a second' smile. As she worked her fingers, her eyes incidentally landed on his hand, and Mila soon found herself admiring it. It was broad and pallid, hard and firm yet also smooth, and plump in its own masculine way. He had bony and profound knuckles, and the most peculiar thought of wondering how it'd feel to have those knuckles skid over her cheek in vampiric affection, crossed her mind.

Immediately ridding herself from such thoughts and the hot feeling that almost instantly followed such muse, she finished her untangling with a loud clear of her throat. "All done," she remarked, smiling at him. He offered a barely noticeable nod of his head, taking back his arm and placing it on his lap, a mellow, almost passive, tug on his lips.

For a vampire, Mila now concluded, he handled the whole situation with unanticipated diligence. She expected her head to role at his feet when she accidently settled herself on his lap, and then again, but he smoothed out the whole ordeal without even breaking a sweat. Did they even sweat? she now pondered.

"Girl," his female companion voiced.

She tilted her face up. "Yes?"

"I find your presence here to be one of peculiarity. You do not appear to have a vampire companion nor a human one for that matter. Your face is unrecognizable." She crossed her arms against her chest. "An intriguing dilemma, do you not agree?"

She pursed her lips. "Hmm?" _Oh, blimey, blimey, blimeydi-blime._ Calm. She could do this. "Oh," was all she managed to say. "I'm supposed to have a companion? Whoops."

She slightly narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Okay," she began, wisely choosing to share her story. "I did come here with the request of this very tall and blond vampire. He stated his dear friend was in need of replenishment. But sadly, I was rejected; perhaps his comrade was feeling under the weather." She shrugged. "I was preparing to take my leave when Kitchen Vampire decided it was time I die. So rude, by the way. The rest is history. Will you give me an A+ or A++ for acing your test?"

"A few minutes ago, you called our friend a fang-rapist for daring to want to drink from you, now we hear your purpose here is to actually offer your blood?"

Mila raised a finger in defence. "A fang-rapist if she pursued to violate my very existing rights. Nonetheless, I struck a deal with the blond vampire, not your Miss I-Will-Kill-You-For-Blinking."

She now seemed more than intrigued. "What kind of deal?"

"Uh, a private one."

"What is your name, girl? I shall ask about you, because do not for a second think you will walk out of this nest without us gaining proof of your purpose here."

She nearly sputtered. "But I just s—"

"There is no need," the vampire in the chair softly interfered. Her attention switched back to him. Still calm. Still benign. "I can scent her blood all the way here. AB negative, the human Eric mentioned he prepared for me."

The female vampire eased back at that, not voicing anything against the male vampire's statement. But at his words, Mila's upper body perked up. He was the tall vampire's comrade and... he was the one that would've fed from her? At the heaty image of him sinking his fangs into her neck, goose bumps abruptly broke out all over her body and a hundred butterflies took flight in her belly. She attempted her best to crush the sensations, and semi-succeeded.

"Oh, sweet chocolate cupcakes, and I walked right into you? Well, tripped, but that doesn't matter. This is perfect!" Smacking her palms together, she shuffled closer to him. Would have? No. He definitely would. If she could convince him to drink from her, then her deal with the vampire Eric would still stand. She could pay for the therapy her mother desperately needed. Her sweet, sweet mother. Hope reignited in her chest.

"Why here," she flipped her curls all to one side, baring her neck to him, "Drink."

"No, thank you," he retorted, kindness still in his eyes. Given their animalistic nature, she didn't expect such chivalry from a vampire. Perhaps she misheard.

Waving his words away, she presented her wrists to him. "Drink?"

He offered the slightest shake of his head, lips curling a little at the edges. "I do not want your blood, human."

Okay. She heard him correctly. But far from offended, Mila scooted even closer to him, peering up at him. "I would, under normal circumstances, shower your face with kisses for saying such words but I'm not under normal circumstances. I need your fangs in me. Like, yesterday." Blunt, yes, but she was so close to closing her part of the bargain!

At her last words, his silvery-blues blinked in mild surprise, his brows even lifting for a moment before settling down. He said nothing.

She released a desperate sigh, gazing about her for further encouragement. She found nothing. She glanced back at him. "I can show you a few tricks, would you like that? No? Okay, uh, what do I know that'd cause vampire brains to blow out of proportion?" She tapped her chin, thinking. "I do ballerina. Well, not really. I just took a few classes." She pursed her lips. "When I was six."

The vampire said nothing but his eyes never left her face as she tried but miserably failed to persuade him. "Oh! I know. Let's rock, paper, scissor it. Three rounds. What do you say?"

"You will most certainly lose," the female vampire interjected, amusement dripping from her tone. "Vampires are known for their speed. Try something else, but fail this time round and you won't get another chance."

Mila tossed her a look. "Thanks for the encouragement. Dammit!" She punched the edge of the chair. "I knew I should've learned how to paint with only the use of my teeth. Elephants apparently paint with their trunks, and they're so good! But as you can see, I don't have a trunk. But I still thought it was genius. I mean, how could an animal even—"

"Girl," the female cut her off.

Mila sighed, concentrating on the vampire before her. "Listen," she started, voice serious and almost demanding. "I know you're not hungry right now, maybe you over-fed, I don't know, but what I know is that there's always room for dessert. And I really need you to eat that dessert. Believe it or not, this is a life and death situation, and you refusing to feed on me will not be the loss of one life but two." Guilt trapping people was sooo not her thing, but she was serious. She wouldn't be able to make it in this world without her mother. Especially not after what happened to her dad— Nope. Not going there. She just simply couldn't.

"So I beg you, please, take from me that I may have the right to take back in return. Please."

The vampire lowered his lashes, saying nothing. She formed her hands in a steeple. "Please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top of it. If you want, I can say the word in different languages. Pozhaluysta, bitte, s'il vous plaît, uh, uh, qǐng?" She timidly lifted her shoulder. What was she even saying? She didn't know Chinese.

Those dark, spiky lashes lifted. "Is your desire vampire blood, human?"

Mila jerked back, nearly even sputtered. "What? No!"

"Money, then." So effortlessly uttered. So matter-of-fact.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes."

"For a loved one." Another statement.

She blinked at him, then formed a short nod. "Yes, my... mother."

He offered a faint nod of his own. "Is she dying?"

Mila shifted her gaze away, licking her lips and then biting down on them. "She will if I don't get the required money needed for her cancer treatment. I know this whole thing sounds so cliché, but it is the truth. I cannot lose her yet. Not this early." _Not ever_ , she finished mentally.

He focused his passive gaze on her. "What is your name?"

"Mila," she answered. "Ivanovna."

Another faint nod. "Isabel," he voiced, looking up at her. That was apparently all the female needed to understand his unspoken words.

Frowning, Mila glanced up at the female, who nobly inclined her head down at her Sheriff, and then tossed her an almost wicked grin. Turning, she clacked her way to the table, opened the white laptop and, after a few clicks and taps, said, "Very well, girl. Start giving me some personal information."

Her frown deepened. "Why?" Then realization dawned, and she gasped in horror. "Wait, are you reporting me to the police? I wasn't lying! Oh hell to the no, I'm out of here." She was already on her feet.

The female vampire rolled her eyes. "No, silly human. We are simply going to transfer some money to your bank account. Obviously."

Mila stilled, wondering if her brain suddenly had a stroke and she misheard. "You're what the what now?"

Another roll of the eyes. "Do you want me to spell it out on the sky with pink, smoky letters?"

Awww, she always wanted someone to do that for her. But back to the matter at hand—she didn't have a stroke; she heard correct. The male vampire was really going to transfer money to her bank account.

"No," she made out. She was struck dumb, to be quite honest. He couldn't give her money just like that; nobody did that. What was wrong with him? But more than that, what was wrong with her? Here it was, a clear opening for her to grab the chance, but here she was, suddenly a possessor of good morale. It just... it felt wrong. So very wrong. And plus, her mother taught her better. Nothing in this world was free; she had to earn it. She did nothing to earn _this_. Hence, "I'm sorry. I cannot."

She glanced down at the male vampire, smiling softly. "It's very generous of you, but I really can't accept that _much_ money." He didn't even know the sum he would've been sending her.

He merely gave her a calm look. "It is what you desired, Mila."

"Yes, but—," she stopped mid-sentence, caught off-guard in the way he pronounced her name. It was caressed and kissed and dipped into hot chocolate that was his accent before rolling out of his lips. It did... things to her insides, things she didn't understand. She abruptly shook her head, focusing on the more important issue.

"Yes. Yes, I know, but I did not earn it. You didn't drink from me, thus I cannot, will not, take money from you. Besides, my deal was with that vampire Eric you mentioned; you shan't answer for him."

"Leave him be, your affairs are with me now."

"I'm sorry," she took a step back, "It just does not feel right. I didn't do anything for you to show me such generosity." _But he's willingly offering it_ , her desperate inner voice called out. _Take it, for once in your life stop being a stubborn fool. It's for your mother._ The demand was tempting, oh, how tempting. But her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, and an invisible force held her back.

"You, a human, kept me company," was his reason.

She released a humourless chuckle, glancing down at her cut-off denim shorts, and then her booted feet. "Believe me, vampire, I know the price of my company and it is not equivalent to the whatever price you are willing to send me."

He offered a gentle side-smile. "I will be the judge of that."

A vampire even more stubborn than her! Why couldn't he just drink from her if he was so adamant on giving her money? Didn't vampires, like, breathe blood? Unless... Her mouth dried, and her cheeks heated a shade darker. Did she... smell bad? But that couldn't be; she'd been surrounded by the blow of AC throughout her ride here, then in this house. She showered before she came here, using her favourite honeysuckle shower gel and coconut-scented shampoo. Her clothes were even crispy-dry and wafted of clean laundry. So then what was his deal? He was one odd vampire.

"Let's make a deal," she began instead. "If you drink from me, I'll accept your money. See? I, too, can be charitable."

His lips twitched a little at her words. But, "That will not happen," he voiced ever so serenely. "I offer you my aid with no payment in return, it is now up to you to either accept or decline it."

She sighed, taking a moment to process his words. In silence, she pondered. Except, she didn't ponder anything. Her mind was blank, and no thought was able to drift through it. "I," she said, staring at him and tapping her foot in slight agitation. "I... I..." She sighed. "I decline." _What!_ her inner voice shouted. She ignored it.

Smiling, she gave a faint bow of her head. "Thank you so much for your mercy and kindness, but I think it is time I take my leave." _No, no, no, no, no._

He gave a brief smile of his own, but said nothing in return. She turned, doing her best to ignore her inner voice that suddenly decided to make itself known. She smiled at the female vampire, received a Oh, well sigh in return, and walked out of the room, while all the while feeling a pair of eyes on her back.

As she made her way to the door, a male draped with a black coat bypassed her. She opened the door and exited.

 _Go back, go back, go back! You idiot! What if this was your only shot at success? What if you won't be able to get money after this?_

Mila slowly licked her lips, starting to pay attention to her inner thoughts. The Texas night breeze gently blew against her form, and before her was a vast entry with dozens of parked sedans and luxuries cars.

He offered her money. Freely.

She stopped in her tracks. Did she just make a huge mistake?

 _Yes!_ Inner Mila cried out. _Go back!_

Could she? Go back, that is? Would his offer still stand?

She suddenly released a whiny noise. Oh, this was going to be embarrassing. _Hey, sorry to barge in like this. Again. But I totally need that money now. Thanks._ Ugh. Idiot Mila, she smacked herself on the forehead.

But she had to accept it, didn't she? Hell, she was going to get fang marks on her body for her mother, so what was accepting money that was offered freely to her? Desperate calls, desperate measures. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her mother. She could cry about it later, but right now, she had to go back inside. If he refused, she would find a way to force him to watch her crappy ballet moves, then he'd have no other choice but to reconsider.

Making up her mind, she turned on her heels and began to retrace back her steps. Perhaps she could even—

A sudden explosion sound erupted in the area, and she saw blazing fire emerge from the house before her body was brutally thrust backwards, causing her to fly a few metres away and land on the hard asphalt head-first.

 _Smack!_

A broken breath barely surfaced to her throat before her world went pitch black.


End file.
